


Space Dad?

by DizzyBunnies



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: hmmmst this isnt romantic so if u a nasty pls dont read this, space dad shiro and space son lance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 20:51:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13372833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyBunnies/pseuds/DizzyBunnies
Summary: Re-uploaded from my tumblr as a request:alrighty so @elsiemcclay requested that lance be sick without the team knowing, but when someone goes to check on him for being absent, they find him having a seizure due to a high fever. my experience with this kinda stuff is pretty limited, so i did the best i could!! if anyone has any pointers about this then pls lemme know!! i hope you like it @elsiemcclay, it was such an interesting prompt to write out :D thx for the request!!





	Space Dad?

Lance loved sleeping in. Back on Earth, he’d sleep in any chance he got; weekends, ped days, snow days, heck—sometimes he faked sick to be able to skip a morning class or two. While he loved sleep, especially his beauty sleep, he knew that his life had taken a sharp turn, and that he needed to alter his schedule. He had gotten so used to staying up late and sleeping it equally as much that he figured to wake up early, he’d have to start sleeping early, too. Something his body wasn’t really used to.

So, when he excused himself early after supper one night, the others—mainly Pidge and Hunk who had grown to learn his sleeping habits from the Garrison—found it odd. He had claimed he was simply tired and was trying to fix his bad late sleeping habits, but in all honesty, he was  _exhausted_. They hadn’t been in space long, so Lance was still growing used to not being able to fall asleep until maybe one or two in the morning, yet having to wake up a mere four to five hours later.

The next morning, when the alarm went off at four, Lance was thankful he had gone to bed early. However, upon sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of his bed, he realised his bettered sleeping habit had done him no good, unfortunately.

Either he had gotten up too fast or was still extremely tired, but the room was spinning. He also became aware of the thin sheen of sweat that layered his body, and even soaked through his pyjamas and sheets. Gross.

Sighing, he stood up, thankful the room was spinning a tad less. His thankfulness had come too soon, however, as his legs wobbled beneath him, sending him back to his bed. The movement sent a pounding to his skull and behind his eyes, and he immediately brought a hand to his forehead. He knew it was technically impossible to tell one’s own temperature themselves, but Lance was, like, 90% sure he had a fever.

Fantastic.

Getting up slowly, Lance tried to dress into his casual clothes—they usually changed before getting into uniform—and he did so after several attempts. He even dropped his jacket on the ground, groaning to himself when he realised he’d have to bend down to pick it up. Reaching down as carefully as he could proved no help, however, and his body tipped forward. He breathed heavily, standing up, only to crash down again. He stood up once more, but the dizzy spell was much worse. He grabbed the side of his bed to help him stay upright, but blackness creeped at the corners of his vision. He took in a deep, shaky breath, but it did nothing against the hammering in his chest. A bead of sweat dripped down his back and he gulped hard; he was about to pass out.

And pass out he did.

* * *

 

Nobody liked the morning drills—Shiro knew this. He himself hated them, as well. So it was no surprise when the Paladins shuffled in slowly, one after the other. Allura stood by the doorframe of the control room, ticker in hand, timing everyone that walked in.

Everyone, except Lance.

“Has anyone seen Lance?” Allura asked, frowning at the ticker in her palm. She received heads shaking in response.

“Isn’t your room like, right next to his?” Hunk asked, elbowing Keith gently. The Red Paladin crossed his arms and rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, but I didn’t see him on my way here. He probably missed the alarm. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was still in bed.” Keith muttered sourly.

“I know Lance likes his beauty sleep, but c’mon, he wouldn’t miss a drill like that.” Hunk argued, somewhat pathetically.

“Sleeping or not, he is not here, which is detrimental to the rest of the team.” Allura pointed out.

“How would we form Voltron if this was a real attack?” Pidge questioned, shooting Hunk a raised eyebrow.

Hunk faltered a moment, shifting his weight on one side.

“Listen, I dunno, okay? Just—just cut the guy some slack. He can’t still be sleeping. He went to bed at like seven last night.” He said nervously.

“He didn’t? We were still eating?” Pidge said, shrugging. “He probably went to sleep at one, like he always did back at the Garrison.”

“Like you’re one to talk. You stayed up all night tinkering with stolen tech.” Hunk countered, running out of patience.

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Alright!” Shiro interrupted, spreading his arms out. “I’ll go see what’s holding him. Can you guys just—just calm down?” He pleaded, stealing a glance at the Princess. She seemed frustrated, but had remained silent during the spat.

“Will do,” Keith replied, nodding.

“Sorry, Shiro. Just tired.” Hunk said, yawning. Pidge nodded in agreement, copying Hunk’s motions not a second later.

Shiro waved them off, and left for the hallway and towards their quarters. While Pidge was right about Lance’s previous sleeping habits (Hunk had told him about it not long ago), he had yet to miss a drill, so his absence was slightly concerning. Half of him hoped Keith was right and that he was still in bed, but half of him hoped that he was actually up and ready.

Upon making his way to Lance’s door, he raised an arm up to knock. However, before he could do so much as call out the boy’s name, he heard shuffling on the other side of the door.

“Lance?” He said loudly, hoping the younger could hear him. In response, however, was more muffling, making Shiro’s concerns grow. He decided to walk in, despite not having the O.K. to do so. He stepped closer to the door, allowing the sensors to pick up his movement, and the door slid upwards.

Shiro was definitely not prepared for what he saw.

Lance was on the ground, nearly chocking on air. His arms and legs shook involuntarily, sending a chill down Shiro’s spine. Right next to the poor boy was a small puddle of what Shiro guessed to be vomit.

Lance was having a seizure.

Shiro dropped down on all fours, lifting Lance’s head up and titling his body to the side. He tried to remember what to do in this situation, but the most he could think of was to not let Lance choke on his puke, and to make sure he didn’t hurt himself. If he was right, the whole thing should’ve been over in a few minutes—and he had been right.

Cursing under his breath at the lack of a communication device, Shiro sat up against a wall, holding Lance’s upper body in his lap. He spotted the pilot’s jacket not too far from them and grabbed it with one hand, the other securely holding Lance in place. He draped the jacket over the boy, and noticed he was still twitching; his breaths coming out in small hitches.

Shiro remembered this—it was common symptoms of what happened directly after a seizure. He suddenly felt very over-protective; Lance was more than a teammate! He was a friend, and (Shiro hated to admit it) sometimes, Lance felt like a little brother.

“You’re doing great, Lance.” Shiro hushed, keeping Lance on his side as he stroked his hair.

* * *

 

Lance knew something was wrong. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he must have at some point, because he was waking up. His muscles were sore, his head was throbbing, and his stomach churned violently. He groaned slightly, only to notice how dry his throat was. He shifted uncomfortably, only to realise he was being held in place by a stronger force.

“Lance? You there, buddy?”

Shiro. It was Shiro.

Lance’s brain was slowly processing his surroundings—he definitely knew he was in Shiro’s lap. He also remembered being in his room, but not much other than that. And, despite him knowing fully well—with 100% certainty—that he was with  _Shiro_ , he couldn’t help but blurt out something else.

“Dad?”

Upon hearing this, Shiro raised an eyebrow. However, as quickly as he wanted to question it, he understood.

“Sorry Lance, wrong guy.”

Lance shifted in place, turning over onto his back. He looked up at the Black Paladin for a moment before closing his eyes.

“No. Not the wrong guy,” he muttered. Worried, Shiro put a hand to his forehead. His fever was raging, but Shiro was sure it must have been much worse before, considering what had happened. “Space dad.” Lance added in a small voice.

“Space dad?” Shiro smirked. He could get used to that.

“Mhm. Thanks space dad.”

He would definitely need to take Lance to the infirmary, and maybe even into a pod, but Shiro was glad that Lance hadn’t been seriously injured throughout the whole ordeal. Maybe he could let him have this one thing.

“No problem, kiddo.”


End file.
